He was an honest one

Or rather

A liar, but unmistakably

The most credible one there was.

Everyone wrapped round

His crooked pinky finger

And spellbound by his silver tongue,

But I was never one for party tricks.

He was polished by a coat of gold

To hide the lusterless bronze

He really was—

Rust.

He only wanted me long enough

To steal my shine, but what if

What if

I stole his?